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First Stanza - [Action & Voice]
[Action, Locked to Willow]
[A few moments before Spike arrived, he and Illyria had just escaped most of the main action and a great big bloody dragon come out of nowhere. He'd lost track of Angel and Gunn. Wesley was dead. So now it was just the two of them. Until Spike suddenly came to the surface of the river, cursing as he suddenly started burning and then swimming back underwater again until he could hide under the shade of the bridge. A bloody tiny bridge. And here he was with only a pair of white pants, now failing to hide much of anything, as he ended up STUCK in this tiny shadow. There was a book in the sunlight that was just out of reach. As the day passed on, it continued to get further away from him as the sun shifted the shadows further and further away.
What bollocks.
He decided he'd just wait until the first person came across the bridge and get their attention. That ought to do it.]
[Action/Voice, Open To All]
[Well, Willow took him 'home'. And he rather decided he liked it. Of course, a vamp can't make himself good and comfy without the proper accouterments. So after taking a nice long shower in House Seven, perusing the kitchen, and no doubt making his new housies terrible uncomfortable, he makes his way out as soon as it's evening. In his New Feather pants at first, because what else was there? But his first stop is the clothing store and he's soon back into slimming back. And then it's off to pick out a fancy weapon, get some blood at Good Spirits, find some smokes, recollect his lighter, and then snoop around town because he knows a certain old flame is around here.Not you, Buffy.
Around midnight, he hits up the journal after finally recollecting it from beside the bridge.]
This is a nice little village you lot have here. Very cozy. Has a certain quality to it, you might say. Very Shyamalan-type setting. Too cheerful. Downright unsettling, if you ask me.
Anyway, who do I talk to for the big plan? I've done my sitting around already. Relaxing, sure. Not too fond of the wings. Too ironic for my taste. But I'm ready to go and find the wankers who locked us up in here and do something about it. Champion of the people, right here. Just point me in the right direction.
[A few moments before Spike arrived, he and Illyria had just escaped most of the main action and a great big bloody dragon come out of nowhere. He'd lost track of Angel and Gunn. Wesley was dead. So now it was just the two of them. Until Spike suddenly came to the surface of the river, cursing as he suddenly started burning and then swimming back underwater again until he could hide under the shade of the bridge. A bloody tiny bridge. And here he was with only a pair of white pants, now failing to hide much of anything, as he ended up STUCK in this tiny shadow. There was a book in the sunlight that was just out of reach. As the day passed on, it continued to get further away from him as the sun shifted the shadows further and further away.
What bollocks.
He decided he'd just wait until the first person came across the bridge and get their attention. That ought to do it.]
[Action/Voice, Open To All]
[Well, Willow took him 'home'. And he rather decided he liked it. Of course, a vamp can't make himself good and comfy without the proper accouterments. So after taking a nice long shower in House Seven, perusing the kitchen, and no doubt making his new housies terrible uncomfortable, he makes his way out as soon as it's evening. In his New Feather pants at first, because what else was there? But his first stop is the clothing store and he's soon back into slimming back. And then it's off to pick out a fancy weapon, get some blood at Good Spirits, find some smokes, recollect his lighter, and then snoop around town because he knows a certain old flame is around here.
Around midnight, he hits up the journal after finally recollecting it from beside the bridge.]
This is a nice little village you lot have here. Very cozy. Has a certain quality to it, you might say. Very Shyamalan-type setting. Too cheerful. Downright unsettling, if you ask me.
Anyway, who do I talk to for the big plan? I've done my sitting around already. Relaxing, sure. Not too fond of the wings. Too ironic for my taste. But I'm ready to go and find the wankers who locked us up in here and do something about it. Champion of the people, right here. Just point me in the right direction.
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It's just, last I saw you, you were alive and well! Or. Maybe not "well." Or...technically even alive. But. You weren't dead. Just undead.
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Wait, a year? So why aren't you dead?
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[A pause as he looks at the house. Oh hey. He can smell Buffy.]
Your place, right?
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[And perks back up at his question!] Yep! Good ol' House Seven. Uh. I'm not sure if Buffy's in right now... [She hadn't been when Willow fetched her pink floral rescue kit, at least.]
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Well. Am I allowed in?
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I invite you in, Spike. [Please don't make her regret this...]
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So this is the new Scooby central, is it?
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[She almost feels like she should offer him...what? Booze, blood, coffee? Nah. Spike's the make-yourself-at-home type. So she'll let him scope it out for the time being.]
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Right, not enough Scoobies for that, is there? So besides the two of you, who else lives here?
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[Uh. With Drusilla. Should...she be talking about her in front of Spike? Even future Spike? Um...]
...with a vampire. Earlier this year.
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Was it a particular vampire?
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I think her his name was. Drrresden. He's actually a guy. And he's not actually a vampire. He's a wizard. [Nervous chuckle.] Gosh, what made me say "vampire?"
[PHEW that was a close one! You're such a good liar, Rosenberg.]
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He just gives her a LOOK. Time to fess up, wicca girl.]
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Okaaaay, so your crazy axe-murderer ex is here and she's just as crazy and axe-murder-happy as ever.
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[If she remembers him trying to stake her, that would be bad.]
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Uh, you should probably know that Buffy's already staked her once, but she came back. Fangless.
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Okay, so if people die here? They're resurrected and plopped right back into the enclosure after a week and some change.
And that apparently extends to the undead residents.
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[Skeptical. Very skeptical.]
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[He knew Willow knew that. Hell, he'd died twice now. He got it too. He wasn't at all sensitive about the fact.]
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[Rather than use words, Willow just reaches up and pokes at her forehead. Where it would be all bumpy and ridgy if she was a vampire.]
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